


That Stunt with the Berries

by Abagail_Snow



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Book 1: The Hunger Games, Canon Compliant, F/M, Humor, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-24
Updated: 2014-03-24
Packaged: 2018-01-16 22:17:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1363699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Abagail_Snow/pseuds/Abagail_Snow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After his mishap with nightlock, Katniss teaches Peeta how to identify safe plants to eat.  At least that was the plan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That Stunt with the Berries

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the berry scene from Under the Never Sky.

Peeta's a whiz with fires, coaxing a blaze out of the damp wood.  In no time, I have the rabbits and squirrel roasting, the roots, wrapped in leaves, baking in the coals.  It'll probably take an hour for the game to thoroughly cook, and I suggest we take turns collecting greens while we wait.

Peeta's face pales at the thought.  "Is that such a good idea?"  he says.  I don't think he's quite over the nightlock incident yet.

"Just stick with the ones I've already shown you," I say.

"That's what I was doing before," says Peeta.  "Is there a better way for me to tell them apart so I don't end up killing the both of us for Cato?"

I frown, mulling this over as I turn the rabbit over the coals.  My father used to recite a poem to help me remember.  "White and yellow, kill a fellow.  Purple and blue, good for you.  Red?  Could be good, could be dead."

"Nightlock looked awfully purple to me," he counters.

Right.  That isn't very helpful.  There's another procedure he had shown me, but it's sort of long and laborious.  A lot of inspecting roots for rot and separating the parts and waiting hours on end between steps to make sure you haven't died yet.  It would probably be easier for me to go off on my own, since I can identify all the plants myself.

But Peeta and I have been arguing all day.  Well, maybe I've been mostly arguing at him.  I imagine the audience in the Capitol isn't too happy with us after all the money they've invested to keep us well fed in our cave.  The star crossed lovers act has dried up along with the rain, and if we're going to give Haymitch anything to work with in the final hours before the finale, now's not the time to be losing friends.

The wind is picking up and I take a step to the side to escape the bellowing smoke from our fire.  This works out perfectly, because it puts me directly across from Peeta, who's leaning against the trunk of a tree to alleviate the weight on his bad leg.  The day's been longer than he's anticipated, I think, but he doesn't let on that he's in any pain.

I place my hand where his is braced over his healing wound and he flinches slightly.  I smile at him gently.

"Here, I can show you," I say, taking a handful of Rue's berries from the pouch on my belt.  He stands straight holding his hand out to me, palm facing up, to accept a few, while I keep the rest for myself.

This won't do us much good for finding food right now, the process takes hours, which in the arena we don't have, but at least it will win us back into our sponsors' favor.

I pinch one between my fingers and he does the same.  "First you check to see if it's rotten.  If it's not very firm, it's probably already gone sour.  You can usually smell it too."

"Sounds easy enough.  I think I can handle that at least," he says, flashing me a quick grin.  "What's next?"

I squeeze the fruit until it splits and its juices begin to drip down my fingers.  "You rub it on your skin to see if it leaves a rash."

He waits for me to roll the berry against the inside of my wrist, leaving a sticky sweet trail in its path.  A blood red drop slides down my skin and pools at the crease of where my arm bends.  He licks his lips, his eyes lingering on the renegade drop, while I wait for him to follow my instruction.  It doesn't look like he's about to start, so I clear my throat to catch his attention.

"Right."  He smiles at me sheepishly then squeezes the juice on his own wrist.  "No rash.  Now what?"

I roll my eyes at his impatience.  "Let it sit for a few minutes.  A reaction won't necessarily happen right away.  It could take hours."

"Hours?" he says a bit perplexed.  "Do we have that kind of time?"

"Not really."

"Well we know these ones are safe, right?"  He swipes his tongue over his wrist to clean it and this time I'm the one finding myself caught in a stare.

Since we've left the cave there hasn't been much kissing and a part of me is starting to miss it.  Bringing Peeta along to hunt has been frustrating, but it doesn't change how comforting his presence has been to me in this arena.  I've grown somewhat accustom to the ease and humor he brings.  

But there's the physical comfort too.  I haven't spent much time outside of his arms these last few days.  And while the kissing has been mostly for the audience's benefit, there was that one kiss that left me feeling curious.

I'm feeling that same warmth in my chest right now as I watch him.

"Yes," I say, finally finding my voice again.  "So next you press it against your lips for a few minutes to see if it burns or tingles."

"Tingles?  Is the berry buying me dinner first?"  I smash my own berry against his mouth to shut him up.

He obediently keeps his lips pressed together while I coat them with the deep purple juice.  His eyes get a little intense when he decides to use his own berry to paint my lips and I have to look away because I know the audience is probably eating this up right now.

"Can I eat it now?" he says, brushing his nose against mine like he's ready to kiss me.  I can't remember him being this close, but now the toes of our boots are touching, and each time our breaths are in sync, our chests bump together slightly.

"No," I say, surprised when I can hear that my voice is trembling.  "Place it against your tongue."  And he opens his mouth for me, his tongue catching a drop of juice running down my finger before finding the berry.

"Now?" he says.

"Fifteen minutes."

"You're kidding me," he murmurs in a way that makes my heart beat so fast, I may as well have run a mile.  "Can we speed this up a bit."

"Chew," I say then quickly add:  "And wait fifteen minutes."

He groans while I laugh at him teasingly.  But when his hand touches my hip to draw me closer, I'm not laughing anymore.

I see him finish his berry before he asks.  "Is it safe now?"

I nod, and my breath catches just as his lips seize mine.  That heat from my chest seems to radiate, spreading to where his hands cup my face.  His tongue tastes as sweet as the berries when it sweeps against my lips, and I'm just melting into this kiss, working up the courage to explore, to open my mouth to him, to taste him myself, when he ends it abruptly.

He hums.  "Yep.  I don't think this berry is any good for me."

I pinch his side and roll on my toes to kiss him again, but he halts me with a finger against my mouth.

"I've got to wait fifteen minutes," he says.  "Or else you could kill me."

"It wouldn't take me fifteen minutes for that."

He kisses my cheek.  "Believe me, I know."

Now's not the time to be kissing anyway.  Not out in the open with Cato hunting us.

The food finishes cooking over the coals and I offer Peeta one of the rabbit legs while I pack the rest of the meat.  He refuses it though in favor of a handful of berries, which he pops into his mouth with a grin as we go off in search of shelter.


End file.
